Snapshot
by Mana-Garmr
Summary: Formerly known as "Untitled - Rude." Anyway, part of the Reaper arc - Rude's story before Reno comes along. Eventual yaoi, individual chapter warnings inside.
1. Prologue

**Warnings:** Slight language

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Prologue – Untitled

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Rudyard Verander had wanted to be a doctor his entire life. At least, that's what he'd wanted since the year he turned 12, which in the eyes of a 15-year-old was close enough to his entire life so as not to make a difference. His 7th grade science class had taken a field trip that year to the Costa del Sol General Hospital, and it took him less than an hour to decide that some day, he wanted to be one of the men in those white coats.

At 15, he was well on his way to achieving that goal. "Rude" – so nicknamed by his friends and classmates, because Rudyard was too much of a mouthful to bother with – was enrolled in all advanced courses at Costa High, and he was a straight-A student in every one of them. He volunteered at the local animal shelter on the weekends, and was already Treasurer of the Student Council, despite being a mere sophomore. Although he was too shy and socially awkward to play on one of the school's sports teams, he was still somewhat athletic, and was always up for a swim or a game of football on the beach after school. He was well-liked by the vast majority of the students, and no one doubted that one day he would achieve his goal.

Then, the summer between his sophomore and junior year, everything changed.

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Year 479

Early in 478, a man by the name of Rad Traia was convicted for the murder of seven people in Junon, where he was sentenced to life in prison, no parole. In the summer of 479, he escaped.

No one really knew how he'd escaped, except that he wasn't being guarded by Turks at the time, and so had probably found it fairly easy to do. Turks weren't often posted outside of Midgar, but they were now on the case, and it was generally agreed that had they been posted as guards initially, not only would Traia have not escaped, but he also would probably have wished for the death penalty by the time the Turks finished punishing him for the attempt.

Unfortunately, the Turks _hadn't_ been posted as guards, and now they were having trouble finding where he'd gone. There were only so many places where one could hide in Junon, and after nearly a week of searching, the Turks came to the reluctant conclusion that Traia wasn't there; he had probably skipped town before they were even alerted of his disappearance. Three days after this unpleasant realization, the first team of Turks disembarked from the ship in Costa del Sol.

* * *

Rude was fishing at the pier when the ship from Junon pulled into port. Rumors had been flying the past few days that a team of Turks was en route to Costa, and he quickly reeled in his line in favor of watching the passengers disembark. There hadn't been Turks in Costa del Sol since before Rude was born, and he wasn't willing to pass up an opportunity to see one up close.

Rude was expecting a group of people resembling James Bond, dressed in expensive suits and equipped with the best weapons and gadgets that money could buy. He was thoroughly disappointed when a handful of nondescript men in plain black suits walked off the ship, no fancy cars or guns in sight and their small travel bags large enough to carry a week's worth of clothes, but far too small to also carry any high-tech weaponry. Then a young man appeared at the top of the gangway, sporting a large three-barreled handgun and a case that could contain a large-bore rifle slung across his back. His cold gaze scanned the dock carefully, taking in the boy and seemingly dismissing him in the space of a heartbeat; Rude gasped when those crimson eyes passed over him. That was Vincent Valentine.

* * *

Vincent Valentine was only in his early twenties, but he was already a legend amongst the Turks, even more well-known than Verdot, the Turks' Commander. He was rumored to be part demon, and it was said that he could hit anything with his three-headed gun, and never missed a shot.

Watching as his calm red gaze scanned Port del Sol, Rude didn't find it particularly difficult to believe the stories of Valentine's marksmanship skills, although he was still less than convinced of his demonic status. Jerry was going to flip when he found out that Rude had gotten to see Valentine in person. Standing and shifting closer to the gangway for a better look as Valentine finally disembarked, Rude nearly stopped breathing when the red-eyed gunman turned and strode over to him as soon as his feet reached the dock.

"Excuse me. Could you please direct us to the Inn?" Rude's stomach knotted, and he gave a short, jerky nod.

"I'll show you there." Rude's voice came out quiet and slightly strangled. Anyone else probably would have been mortified; he was just thankful that he didn't stammer, as he often did when forced to speak to a stranger for the first time. Deciding that he'd better not speak again lest he really make a fool out of himself, Rude turned and led the way through the docks, missing the way Valentine's lips briefly quirked up into an amused smile.

Costa was quiet, the heat of the day keeping many people inside. The sun warmed the cobblestones beneath Rude's feet and he relaxed slightly once he was no longer looking directly at any of the Turks. It was a pleasant day in Costa, and he debated taking his fishing gear down to the jetty later on, wondering if the Turks would begin their search that day or if they would spend the day recovering from the long trip. He had never been to Junon (or anywhere else outside of Costa, really), but he imagined that a three-day boat ride probably wasn't all that fun.

Those thoughts led him to wonder what it was like in the city and he became lost in his thoughts, turning automatically towards the Inn when he felt the cobblestones beneath his feet give way to packed sand. He was understandably startled when a loud voice squawked right next to his ear.

"Hello!" Rude closed his eyes and sighed. He'd meant to take the long way around to the Inn; now he had to talk to the damned bird, or it would follow him all the way to the Inn.

"Hello, Rico." He turned to face the scarlet macaw, glad that his skin was too dark for his flushed face to be visible. This was the last conversation he wanted to be having in front of a group of Turks, let alone in front of Vincent Valentine.

"Pretty bird!" Rude rolled his eyes. Rico knew how to say very few phrases, and he almost always said them in the same order. Provided that his unwilling victim responded correctly, the bird would fortunately fly off after a few minutes.

"Yes, very pretty."

"Fresh fish!"

"Fresh fish to market." The Turks were all staring by now, and Rude vaguely wondered if it was possible for the earth to open up and swallow him.

"Goodbye!"

"Goodbye, Rico." Rude sighed in relief when Rico took that as his cue to leave, flapping away to torment someone else. It was almost depressing to think that the bird would likely outlive him, and would therefore be around to annoy him for the rest of his life.

"Does he do that often?" The smooth voice of Vincent Valentine spoke behind him, and Rude didn't miss the small smirk this time. He shrugged.

"Only every single time you pass by him. You get used to it after a while I guess." '_Once you learn that he's really good at dodging rocks and always bites back…_' Vincent's smile grew a little bigger, and he gestured for Rude to continue walking, pleased that the boy hadn't choked up when he tried to speak this time.

"So, what's your name?" Rude glanced over, startled to realize that Valentine had elected to walk next to him instead of hanging back again.

"Rude." At Valentine's look, he shrugged again. "Rudyard. But only my mother ever calls me that." Vincent chuckled. It had been the opposite for him – his mother was the only person to ever call him Vinny instead of Vincent – but he understood Rude's chagrin completely. His own mother _still_ called him Vinny, and Rude's mother would probably always call him Rudyard, no matter how many other people called him Rude. Vincent said as much, and Rude smiled ruefully. The bird would outlive him, and the name would haunt him forever. It was pretty much as he expected.

The rest of the walk passed comfortably, Vincent asking questions about the town and Rude's schooling, and Rude cheerfully telling him all about Costa and the pains of high school (which Vincent decided hadn't really changed that much since he'd graduated). By the time Rude dropped the Turks off at the Inn, he was talking with Vincent like he would an old friend, and even managed to stop calling him Valentine in his head. Almost.

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The rest of the week passed too quickly for Rude's liking. He made it a point to wander by the Inn in the evenings, where Vincent was invariably loitering after dinner. The first night Rude had been surprised to see him there; he hadn't really expected to see any of the Turks, and it was almost as though Valentine had been waiting for him. He spent that evening showing Vincent around, pointing out the jetty where he liked to fish and the areas of the beach where the local teens liked to swim and play ball.

The second night, Rude realized that Vincent _had_ been waiting for him the prior evening, having guessed that Rude would show up at some point. He was almost unsurprised to see Vincent waiting in exactly the same spot as before, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He was, however, surprised to see that Vincent had his triple-barreled gun with him. Vincent eyed him for a moment after he approached, then pushed away from the wall.

"Come on."

If Rude was surprised to watch Vincent turn around and climb up the wall and onto the roof of the Inn, he didn't show it. Instead, he hauled himself up behind the Turk, doing his best to copy where Vincent had placed his hands and feet. He only slipped once before he made it to the top. Vincent nodded to himself before sitting in the middle of the roof, pulling his gun onto his lap.

Rude sat down next to him, and Vincent pointed at the gun. "This is Cerberus…"

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By the end of the week, Rude could take Cerberus apart and put it back together blindfolded. He wasn't as good at assembling and disassembling Vincent's rifle, but he put that down to not having as much time to practice. Vincent was pleased with his quick progress, praising him when he did the disassembly and reassembly in less than three minutes.

Much of their time together that wasn't spent stripping weapons was spent with Vincent talking about his life in the city and with the Turks, and debunking (or verifying) some of the rumors about the Turks or himself. He laughed and shook his head when Rude finally worked up the nerve to ask him about the demon rumor; that one had been started when Vincent was a Trainee, and was based solely on the color of his eyes. Vincent also denied the claim that he never missed a shot, although he did admit that it was rare that he didn't hit his target. The rest of the time Rude surprised himself by talking to Vincent about himself, including his dream of becoming a doctor one day. Vincent nodded at that.

"It's a good dream to have. Don't get so focused on being the best to get into med school that you forget how to be a kid, though. You still have your whole life ahead of you; you'll wake up one day and wonder what ever happened to your teenage years. Trust me; I'm not that much older than you, and I'm already there. Don't get so focused on one dream that you close yourself off to all other possibilities, either. You'll live the rest of your life wondering what else is out there if you do." Rude thought of the Costa del Sol General Hospital, and of the city that Vincent had described to him the other day, and couldn't help but agree. If he became a doctor here in Costa, he'd never leave… and he'd always had a fascination for the city, even if he never really let himself dream about it.

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When the Turks left at the end of the week, prepared to continue on and search Corel and the Gold Saucer areas for Traia, Rude accompanied Vincent to the port where an SUV shipped over from Junon awaited him, surprised at how unhappy he was to see the Turk go. Vincent turned to him and shook his hand solemnly.

"Remember what I said the other day, Rude. You have the rest of your life ahead of you." Rude nodded, looking down at the ground. He doubted that Vincent had meant for him to throw his dream completely out the window and run for the city, but he couldn't help wanting to do just that; how much of his so-called-dream of being a doctor was just because everyone expected him to do it? Everyone around him had approved of his goal so quickly that he had never given it a second thought; now he was confronted with a different possibility, and he didn't know what to do. Vincent gripped his chin, forcing him to look back up.

"You have two more years to decide what you want to do. I'm not telling you to give up on your goal, just making sure you look around and make sure it's what you really want to do. When the time comes to decide, you'll know." Rude nodded, and Vincent released his chin to pat him on the shoulder, smiling and turning to climb into the car. He didn't look back, but Rude stood on the street anyway, watching until the vehicle disappeared on the road out of town.

Two weeks later, a news report stated that Rad Traia was dead, killed in a confrontation with the Turks. He was killed by a three-round burst to the head.

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Year 481

Rude waited with 18 other students in the school auditorium, listening to the high school's Dean give an interminably long speech about "travelling on to bigger and better things"… whatever the hell _that_ was supposed to mean. He was as relieved as the other graduates in his small class when the speech ended, and the graduates were told to move their tassels from the right to the left. They were finally done with high school.

As expected, Rude graduated at the top of his class with full honors. He had been accepted into Midgar Medical School, and was invited to begin classes there that fall. He smiled when the townspeople came over to congratulate him after the ceremony ended, shaking hands and agreeing that he was "very excited about travelling to Midgar." His mother simply smiled when people mentioned how proud she must be of her oldest child.

A week later, Rude boarded the ship to Junon. None of his friends or the townspeople were there to see him off; the only people who knew he was going were his family, and they had already said their goodbyes that morning. His mother was too emotional with goodbyes to see him off at the dock. Rude stood at the railing as the ship left port. A pair of mirrored sunglasses – a parting gift from his brother and sister – hid the unshed tears that made his eyes gloss over as he watched his home disappear in the distance for the first time in his life.

The breeze skimmed over his newly-shaved head as he stood there, taller and more broad-shouldered than he had been two years ago. A lot had changed in those two years…Rude stood out on the deck long after Costa disappeared, idly fingering an envelope in his pocket. It was signed by a man named Verdot, and had a bold **T** stamped on the front. He took a deep breath and stepped away from the railing, eyes dry and giving no indication that leaving home upset him. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and turned away from the railing, instead facing east towards Midgar… and his future.

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A/N:

So, I haven't played Before Crisis, and therefore I was confused as hell about who Veld was. Then I discovered that Veld = Verdot, and all was well.

Vincent Valentine rocks.

I don't know how long it would actually take to field strip Vincent's gun and reassemble it… I suspect that a revolver might be easier to strip than a 1911, which is what I estimated my time off of (and it's still just a ridiculous estimate… could probably be done faster but I've never done it myself and so have no real basis for my timing…), but I figure Cerberus is probably fairly complex, so however long it *actually* takes to break down and reassemble the average handgun, 3 minutes for Cerberus sounds pretty good to me :p

Please excuse the ridiculous ooc-ness and au-ness on the part of the Turks… There are certain parts of the FFVII plot that I'm going to ignore or completely twist around in favor of having my characters do what I want them to do :p

And in case anyone is curious, Year 479 is the same year that Reno gives Axel up for adoption, over in _Fallen_.


	2. Chapter One Memories

**Warnings:** Groping, and some hickeys. Nothing explicit though.

_Text blocks in italics are flashbacks. If the large amount of italic text is too much of a pain in the ass to read, please let me know and I'll find a less obtrusive way of marking it._

**MORE IMPORTANT NOTICE!** I've decided to go ahead and name the story _Snapshot_. I'll officially change the name the next time I update, but I wanted to warn everyone first so that no one thinks the story suddenly disappeared.

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Chapter One – Memories

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Year 483

Sunlight filtered calmly through the window, illuminating a white room almost entirely devoid of any personal effects. A closet, dresser, and small bookshelf, all completely empty, took up the space on one half of the room. A small mini-fridge sat next to the bed on the other side, doubling as a nightstand. A pair of tanned hands worked steadily, sorting the contents of a box into two piles on the bed: that which should be saved, and that which should probably have been thrown out a long time ago. A copy of the Turk Field Manual, brand new and as of yet unopened, sat next to the "save" pile.

A navy-striped tie was one of the first items to be pulled out of the box, and the quiet worker smiled, alone and unseen in the privacy of his old room, and remembered.

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"_Today begins the first official day of your training to become Turks. Most of you will not make it. Some of you," the speaker paused, letting his hard gaze travel around the room, "have already been blacklisted as probable failures."_

_The large gym was filled with Trainee hopefuls, hanging on each and every word of the man standing at the podium. His face was lined and scarred, and his shaggy brown hair fell in waves around his face. He hadn't bothered to introduce himself, entering the room with two other Turks by his side precisely at 1200 and launching straight into his introductory speech. Everyone knew who he was anyway: Verdot, the man who had either given them an invitation to join, or who had told them that they either could join or die like the criminals that no small few of them were._

_There was a bit of uneasy shifting throughout the room at the mention of a blacklist. Not many of them had expected that the Turks would already be analyzing them and anticipating failure. Seated on the edges of the group, where he wouldn't feel suffocated by the presence of so many other people, Rude remained still and silent. Of course the Turks had already started the blacklist; they had been analyzing every single Trainee since the invitations were handed out. In any case, the presence of a blacklist also meant that there was a list of people expected to pass, which was always a hopeful thing._

_Verdot continued, "With this in mind, we feel that you each have the potential to prove us wrong... Otherwise, we wouldn't have bothered to invite you here. We expect a lot from all of you, and we do not expect to be let down." A warning was hidden in this statement, which Rude made careful note of. Putting forth any less than 100 percent effort would not be tolerated, and those who didn't make the cut wouldn't be around for very long. Rude had no intention of falling into that category._

_Verdot's speech didn't last much longer. He told them about the three-month Deadline, after which they could not voluntarily quit. Implied in that was the caveat that they also couldn't be allowed to leave the program alive. They would be given a three day grace period to come to their senses and return; after that, they would be disposed of. Verdot was not a man to mince words, and there was no doubt in anyone's mind what he meant when he said "disposed of"._

_Verdot concluded his speech with a final set of instructions: "You should all have completed inprocessing by now, and may return to your rooms or the common areas for the remainder of the day. Further instructions will be passed along later in the day. Dismissed."_

_As Rude followed the rest of the Trainees out of the gym, he noticed the Turks converging on Verdot, and got the feeling that they were all about to be debriefed on what they thought of the new Trainees. Vincent Valentine stood next to Verdot, where he had remained since their entrance to the gym. He gave Rude a small nod of recognition, which Rude cautiously returned. The other Turk who had entered with Verdot was a slender man of Wutaiian descent whose dark eyes were even colder than Verdot's, if that was possible, and Rude quickly decided that he didn't want to risk offending that man by lingering to try and talk to Vincent._

_Squaring his shoulders and resisting the urge to straighten his already-impeccably striped tie and carefully-pressed dress shirt, Rude turned away and strode out of the large double doors._

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Rude smiled again, carefully folding the striped tie in his hands. That had been the last day he ever wore that tie; from that point on, he and the rest of the Trainees had worn only the dark suit of the Turks, complete with a black tie for normal wear and a crimson tie for formal occasions. He set the tie down on the trash pile; the Turk uniform was his life now, and he wouldn't need the navy tie again.

Half of the box had been emptied (most of it landing in the discard pile) before Rude paused again, this time to pull out a Day-Glo Yellow reflective belt. It was dropped onto the discard pile immediately, and the smile that accompanied the memories that it dredged up was more of a wry smirk than anything else.

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The first day of training dawned bright and early. Well, early anyway; the sun wasn't up yet, so bright was probably a bit of an exaggeration, and in any case, none of the Trainees felt particularly bright at 0300. The uniform for the morning consisted of black shorts and shirt, running shoes, white socks (which were not to have any visible logos and must be tall enough to cover the ankles, and Gaia help anyone who wore non-regulation socks), and a reflective belt bright enough even in the early-morning darkness to hurt the eyes. Today was the first day of physical training, or the dreaded PT as the Trainees would soon learn to call it.

_The Trainees fell into a loose formation, and Rude immediately decided that the start of the first day of training was already a complete gaggle-fuck. Apparently the Turk Instructors agreed, because the next 10 minutes was spent with them screaming at the Trainees to "Hurry the __**fuck**__ up, assholes, we don't have all __**fucking**__ day to wait on your sorry asses, __**get in alphabetical order!**__" _

_What followed was nearly an hour of sheer agony: more pushups, lunges, flutter kicks, and suicides than Rude could count. Half of the Trainees were on their knees before it was half over, vomiting whatever remained of dinner last night and then continuing to dry-heave as their stomachs cramped and bitterly informed them that they weren't ready for this. When about 30 percent of the Trainees remained on their feet, the TIs decided that everyone had had enough, and called for a break. And by break, they meant run. Rude wasn't sure how far they ran. All he knew was that 327 Trainees had reported for duty yesterday, at least 250 had made it as far as the run this morning, and less than 50 remained by the end of the run, which lasted an hour and a half and was at a quick enough pace that Rude's chest stabbed and his legs felt like jelly by the end._

_Despite his physical pain, Rude was actually able to remain towards the front of the survivors, beaten by only three other Trainees. A fourth, blond-haired and blue-eyed and seemingly unaffected by the quick pace, cruised alongside Rude and grinned when he introduced himself as Price and had to wait several minutes for Rude to gasp out his name in return. The two kept pace with each other for the remainder of the run; Rude used Price as his inspiration to not fall out, although he was reasonably certain that his fair-haired "battle buddy" needed no similar encouragement. By the time the nightmarish run finally ended, it was all Rude could do to remember his training on the beach and continue to walk instead of collapsing where he stood. Price looked around, bright-eyed and apparently unwinded, and Rude sighed internally, reminded of the fact that no matter how physically fit he was, people like Price would always outdo him on the runs, because he was too damned big to have the natural ability that they had. He actually had to work for it._

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Shaking his head, Rude continued sorting through the pile. He soon dredged up a half-used pack of bore patches, and he chuckled when he tossed them onto the "save" pile. He hadn't been the best marksman during Basic Rifle Marksmanship – he had shot a 34 out of 40, earning a Sharpshooter badge instead of an Expert – but he had certainly been able to disassemble and reassemble his weapons the fastest. Vincent Valentine, who had declined to teach the course but wandered around helping to correct Trainees, smirked when the times were called off.

An old mouthguard was the next item to be tossed into the discards pile, and Rude recalled with some surprise how quickly he had taken to Combatives. It was true that his bulk gave him a natural advantage when rolling for dominant body positions, since he could easily manhandle most of the other Trainees, but he had surprised himself – and the TIs – with how quickly he grasped the other Combatives techniques. He found the Level I Clinch Drill easy to pass, and was scheduled to begin Level II training two weeks from graduation. His leather fighting gloves, which the Combatives instructor had presented to him upon his acceptance into the Level II class, were already packed carefully away with his new uniforms.

Rude almost missed the small medical vial when he finally finished sorting items and placing the "saves" back into the box. He stared at it for a moment before picking it up, gazing quietly at the misshapen bullet inside.

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Towards the end of training, each Trainee was paired with a Senior Turk as a mentor for conducting field missions. Because the Turks were expanding in size, many of the Trainees were doubled up with mentors; Rude had gotten lucky enough to be paired with Price, whom he'd made close friends with. Their mentor, a veteran Turk named Dagger, waited for them one Friday outside of classes, sealed mission envelope in hand. Both teens sighed inwardly, knowing that a Friday mission meant a weekend full of After-Action Reviews and paperwork, but they remained quiet and followed Dagger to the Briefing Room.

_The mission was a fairly simple one, although it held the potential to be extremely dangerous. For quite some time now, the Turks had been tracking the actions of an entity in the slums of Midgar called the Reaper. The Reaper's organization, known as the Lich to the city's denizens, had existed for decades, maybe even centuries – before the Upper Plate had even been built. The Reaper himself changed periodically as previous leaders of the criminal organization grew old or tired of running it. The current incarnation, a man named Tanner, had been slowly increasing his activities over the past several months. Nothing was said __**directly**__ to the Trainees, but it was rumored that Verdot believed the increase to be a precursor to Tanner stepping down as the Reaper. Such a regime change usually meant years of preparation from the retiring leader, so the change – if that's what this was, anyway – would happen long after Rude and his classmates graduated, but Verdot – who it was rumored was preparing to step down himself – wanted to begin gathering as much intel as possible before that occurred. He also wanted to be prepared in case the increase was really a precursor to a larger grab for power; Tanner had proven himself to be a highly ambitious man during his time heading the Lich._

_In any case, the mission that Dagger briefed to the two Trainees was a simple dismounted stake-out… made extremely dangerous because it was a stake-out of Tanner's people, and because it was in the Sector 4 slums, arguably the most dangerous sector of Midgar. Sector 4 was where the Gang Wars were._

_Less than an hour after the brief, the Rude and Price were standing with Dagger on the elevator that provided an easy access point between the Upper and Lower Plates, praying that it didn't break down halfway and force them to climb the ladder down the rest of the way. Once safely on the ground, the three made the walk to Sector 4 in good time, silent most of the way. The streets were fairly empty, which was typical of a Friday in the early afternoon; most people weren't out of work yet, and wouldn't be taking to the streets until later, when the stores closed and the bars and clubs kicked into high gear. The Turks planned to be back on the Upper Plate by then._

_The atmosphere was even quieter in Sector 4, and more tense. All three Turks were immediately on their guard; even though Tanner had increased his operations, it hadn't really changed the overall atmosphere of the slums yet, and so a quiet, tense atmosphere generally meant one thing: two gangs were preparing to have a Meet somewhere, and everyone with any sense was staying indoors and out of sight._

_The gangs of Midgar, and the associated Gang Wars, had existed easily as long as the Reaper. It was easy to understand why the gangs formed; it happened everywhere where there was a significant level of poverty. What no one really knew was why the Wars started The winners didn't really gain any territory; even if the losing gang was entirely wiped out, the winners would usually stay out of their old territory and let a new gang to form in the area, allowing the amount of gangs to remain at the status quo. It wasn't unusual for a losing gang to be almost completely destroyed, either; the Wars were vicious, bloody affairs, whose only true purpose seemed to be an opportunity to engage in violence. Although Turks were generally left alone when wandering the streets in uniform, there was no guarantee of safety when the gangs' blood was boiling before or during a Meet, and none of the three wanted to get caught up in a fight; a group of 10 or so battle-mad teenagers would take down three Turks with no real concern for their own safety._

_Alert and moving quickly to get to their stake-out point and out of the danger zone, Dagger and his Trainees still had no way of preventing what came next: rounding the corner of a building, only two blocks from their hoped-for safety, they ran straight into one of the gangs on its way to the Meet._

_For a long, agonizing moment, the two groups of people simply stared at each other. A quick head count told Rude that there were thirteen people in this particular gang, which was bad news for the Turks. 4-1 odds in the enemy's favor was never a good thing. As the gang members assessed the Turks and took note of their uniforms, Dagger, experienced in dealing with the gangs and knowing how quickly the situation could go south, let himself hope that the gang wasn't too hyped up to ignore the status that those suits represented. His hopes were in vain when one of the gang members – presumably their leader – sneered, twitched in a silent signal to his companions, and drew a gun._

_By the time he had his weapon leveled at the Turks, Price had fired off a shot from his own concealed handgun, Rude had donned his fighting gloves, and Dagger was simultaneously flinging throwing knives with one hand and calling on his cell for immediate backup with the other. The gang leader went down in a head of blood and entrails, but that didn't deter the others, who had all drawn weapons on his signal. The Turks quickly found themselves embroiled in a melee fight that they had no chances of winning. Few of the twelve remaining gang members had handguns, but Dagger was directly in front of one of them when she began to wildly fire off rounds; two shots to the stomach quickly disabled him, and his phone and the blade he currently held in his hand clattered to the ground. Price was the next to go down, stabbed in the leg, and Rude decided that no matter how quickly backup arrived, it was going to be too late to help any of them. He tossed Dagger over his shoulder, sweeping up his knife and cell at the same time, and grabbed Price by the shoulder, hauling him up and back around the corner._

_They ran back the way they had come, Rude dragging Price most of the way, and zigzagged their way between buildings for three blocks before the pursuing gang gave up the chase and continued back towards their Meet. At that point, Rude let go of Price's arm and allowed him to limp along instead of being dragged, and they made their way towards Sector 5, where there would be more people and less danger of being ambushed. They made it another half of a block before Rude passed out, blood pumping from a wound in his shoulder that he hadn't even realized was there._

_The bullet had passed through an artery, although it fortunately missed any major nerves. Tseng, Verdot's second-in-command, led the backup team, and tracked Dagger's cell phone to find the downed team. Price had managed to use torn strips of their shirts to perform some basic first-aid and stop the majority of their bleeding; the doctors credited this for saving Dagger's life. Price argued that Rude was the one who had hauled the three of them out of there, and Verdot and Tseng compromised by not giving either of them any special recognition (although both were treated to free drinks at Mainstreet by an unknown individual, and Tseng studiously avoided looking at either of them the entire time they were there). Dagger was placed on desk duty, and Rude was accosted by one of the nurses on his way to the dining facility the next Monday, when she presented him with a small glass medical vial containing a spent slug, the blood meticulously cleaned off for him._

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Rude rolled the vial in his hand for a moment, thinking about the days that had followed that mission. He wasn't one for getting inebriated, but the free drinks that night (which he was sure Tseng would have denied buying if asked) had made him quickly surpass his usual boundaries. He and Price had stumbled back to his dorm room after, too drunk for either of them to consider that Price's room was only next door and not too far for him to walk. When they ran into the bed and fell over on top of it, they wound up tangled with one another and descended into a fit of giggling, which would have probably irritated Rude's other neighbor of that particular Trainee hadn't failed out the fourth week of training. As it was, there was no one around to hear the giggling, or the drunken kisses and groping that followed. There was also no one to witness their awkward wake-up in the morning, when they realized that they were both equally naked and covered in varying amounts of hickeys and cum.

Over the following week, the awkwardness around each other had given way to the realization that they _did_ actually like each other, and that the drunken nights had really only served to speed up a process that Rude's reticence and Price's good manners would have probably delayed for months. After that, it became natural for them to spend the majority of their free time together, and both were pleased to be announced as partners at graduation, even if the thrill was slightly marred by the fact that Dagger was probably going to be on desk duty for the remainder of his career and therefore wasn't named as the Senior Turk who would continue to mentor them during the early stages of their career.

Now, the afternoon following graduation, the two Turks would be moving into their first apartments, conveniently situated next door to each other. Smiling at that, Rude pocketed the bullet, took one last look around his now-empty room, and walked into the hallway, box tucked under his arm.

He wasn't the only person moving out last-minute odds and ends; another young Turk with pale hair and even paler skin was stepping out of his own room as Rude entered the hallway. The albino smiled upon seeing Rude, pale eyes sparkling behind his exceedingly thick glasses. "Hello, Rude. And goodbye, I suppose; we probably won't be seeing much of each other any longer, will we?"

Rude inclined his head in greeting and smiled back. "Hey Whisper. I hope you don't plan on spending _that_ much time holed away in the Development section… You're still allowed to come hang out you know." Whisper laughed, his voice echoing down the empty corridor.

"You know Rude, I think you're the only one of my classmates who never looked down on me for being albino, or for being half blind, or for preferring to do research instead of go to the field."

Perhaps it was his own unusually dark skin and quiet attitude, but Rude didn't really understand why someone _would_ look down on Whisper for those things. "Honestly, I'd rather have someone who enjoys doing it be the one working Development; it's probably better that way for those of us trying to use what you come up with. In any case, why look down on someone for having a job they like? And the albino thing is just stupid; they may as well look down on me for having dark skin."

Whisper smiled again. "Broad shoulders and a dark complexion are more likely to earn you stalkers than disgust, but I suppose you never really felt the need to let that bother you. I'm certainly glad to have met you here though; it's not often one finds a person with your patient outlook on life. I wish you the best of luck in the field."

Rude clasped the hand that was extended to him and nodded. "Best of luck to you too, Whisper. And I'm serious about hanging out; I'll be keeping in touch with you." Whisper nodded in return, promised to check his messages every so often, and turned to lock the door behind him. Rude continued on outside.

He was ambushed almost immediately. "Rude! _Rude!_ Stand right there!" Squinting against the sun, he found himself tugged into place next to Price, with one of their fellow graduates lifting a camera and demanding that they both say "cheese". Price wrapped an arm around his waist and he grinned, just in time for the flash.

* * *

**A/N:** I've decided that I really don't want to actually write any lemons with Rude and Price… you'll understand why later in the story, but for now there probably won't be any lemons in the story, just some inferred "situations" between the two.

This is a couple years before Reno leaves his home over in _Reaper_. I have a timeline going to keep things straight, I just haven't decided yet whether to release it or not. If I get reviews from this asking me to make it available, I'll post a link in my profile (a link to a modified version, which doesn't give away key events that haven't happened yet or take place in another unfinished story ;-) ).

Anyway, I started this a while ago (umm, before the 4th of July weekend, and I'm sorry to whoever I told that I'd have it updated that next week, I was too busy doing stuff with family over that weekend, as predicted, and Army training sucked up the rest of my life between then and now). So, sorry for the long time between updates :( I's still doing training, but I've moved into classroom mode for the most part, so we're getting released around 4:30pm most days, which hopefully means I'll have more energy and time to update now :p

Speaking of Army training, that's where a lot of the terms for various parts of training come from. If anyone's curious about any of that stuff, let me know and maybe I can answer some general questions about it. And if you have questions about why the last paragraph says that there was a camera flash, even though I clearly stated that there was bright sunlight outside... it sounded good :p and I'll just claim that the photographer doesn't know how to use the various functions on his camera.

I don't know if this will be the next story I update or not – I feel like I'm neglecting _Fallen_, but I haven't sat down to really outline what I want to have happen with Axel's childhood; I have a couple of key events but nothing to fill the spaces in between yet (that's actually kind of where this story is at now that I've finally churned out this chapter). _Shifter_ might be next, since I have a better idea of what I want to happen next, but I have some serious plot holes to figure out first (sometimes things make way more sense in my head than they do on paper, and that needs to be remedied before I can post my next chapter, hehe). I also want to start _Royalty_, but I have 3 in-progress pieces already, and as with the others, I have no specific plot for _Royalty_ yet – I just want to finally introduce Rufus :p (well, he _is_ supposed to appear in _Fallen_, so I might have to start that story soon-ish anyway).

ANYway… if you guys have any preferences on which story you want to see updated next, maybe I can accommodate :)

Oh, and I started a blog, in case anyone's interested (it's mostly me bitching about Army training right now, but maybe someone will find it entertaining?...) It's at: http:// cbonadeo . blogspot . com (remove the spaces of course)

**Reviews! **I might not address them all individually (there are a lot of them since I waited so long to update), but thanks to everyone who did take the time to review, it's always much appreciated :)

**jennie300303 – **lol, thanks ;) The bird is actually based off of my aunt's macaw. He's not quite as annoying, fortunately, although he does bite the unwary - usually on the ear :(

**infinityinmirrors – **thanks :) Every now and then I do a search for some good new Turkfics myself, and I'm always thrilled when I find one I like. I was a little surprised by how nice AC portrayed them compared to the game, but AC: Complete had an extra scene in there that kinda-sorta explained the change of heart (like, Reno almost maybe grew up a little? :p). I like their funny side, and I don't mind the nicer side of them too much either, but I did miss the whole "I don't give a fuck, let's drop the plate, and hey! There's a bar so let's drink and ignore Cloud and his gang" side of them, lol.

**GrinningCheshireCat9 – **I was about to reply that I've seen one or two, but now that I think on it I've only ever seen fics that started off with Rude in training, none with him pre-Turk (although I did find one that involved his mother, called _Bodies in the Sun_, that I enjoyed a lot). Thanks for the review :)

Aand… feel free to point out grammar and typos as you find them :) (and if you've managed to find plot holes in the first actual chapter, point those out too, and then smack me for dropping the ball so early :p)


	3. Chapter Two Get Out Alive

**Warnings:** some language

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_Chapter Two – Get Out Alive_

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_Year 485_

Rude's first years as a junior Turk were relatively uneventful. His missions with Price were fairly standard and consisted primarily of stakeouts; when something more challenging came along, they typically went out with Either Tseng or Vincent, since neither of them had the kind of experience that more difficult missions generally required. As time went on, the duo acquired a lot of the skills and finesse that the senior Turks possessed, and they rarely had to have a more experienced back-up any more. Now, however, things were changing. Nearly two years after Rude's graduation, rumors began to float up from the Slums that the Reaper was looking for a replacement.

The Reaper was a title known throughout Midgar, even in the higher-class homes on the Upper Plate. His name was synonymous with the Bogeyman in most people's minds, and parents from all levels of society frequently used him as a mythical figure to frighten their children into behaving. Others believed so strongly in the legend that they feared to even whisper his name. He was the most feared and respected crime boss in Midgar, and his gang, known as the Lich, had existed for centuries. It was said to number in the hundreds, and the lesser-educated believed that the Reaper and his minions were immortal; the slum rats who ran in the endless gangs below the Plate, and the Turks, knew better.

The Reaper was a title passed down from person to person by means of a vicious 'ceremony' known as the Bloodletting. The Reaper sent invitations to people who could possibly succeed him, and they fought to the death for the honor. The people of the Slums didn't know much else about the change of command, and truth be told, nothing else really affected them anyway. The Turks, however, always went on high alert when a Reaper was preparing to step down.

The process of turning over control of the organization was a lot more involved than the average Slum dweller gave credit for. The Lich controlled vast amounts of the lower city, even regulating the crimes of most of the other organized mobs. In order to successfully hand off power, the Reaper had to basically stabilize the city, developing a careful balance of crime lest everything fall into chaos as soon as he left. Contacts had to be preserved for the new leader, and contracts and agreements had to be renewed, as well as enforced. The process didn't usually affect the Turks very much, but there was always the possibility that allegiances could shift and loyalties waver, the effects of which could be either beneficial or harmful to their operations.

The current Reaper, a man who went by the name of Tanner, wasn't a particularly good leader, by the Turks' standards. He was fairly disorganized, burned through money as quickly as he earned it, and had a rather horrific turnover rate of his Lich members, mostly because he was inept at managing people. Tseng personally felt that the man was simply too blinded by greed to actually do his job, and so the suggestion that the man was suddenly going to step down didn't sit right with him. Verdot agreed, and the Turks were ordered to step up observations on the Lich's activities before they even bothered to confirm the rumors; nothing good was going to come out of changes in Tanner's organization.

To Rude's surprise, he and Price _weren't_ immediately assigned to step up "patrols" in the Slums; their mission load continued as normal for several weeks after the increased optempo began. When they were finally called to a special meeting at Verdot's office, it was a relief.

* * *

"…_and if the President gets any hint that I'm not really dead, and that you helped me get away, he'll go after all of you. He doesn't understand how vital the Turks are to the company, Tseng; he won't hesitate to have you all killed if you're not very careful with this."_

"_He won't find out, and we won't look for you. I'll come up with a body, and that will be that. Even if he did somehow find out that you'd left alive, there's absolutely nothing he can do about it…"_

Rude froze. He was early – the meeting was supposed to be at 8:30 and it was only 8:20 – and he knew for sure that whatever Verdot was talking about, he sure as _hell_ wasn't supposed to hear it. There was only one thing that Verdot could really be talking about "getting away" from, and that was the Turks. Joining the Turks was a lifetime sentence; if you tried to leave you were killed, simple as that. At least, Rude had always thought so.

"…_The Turks are even less dispensable than the Soldiers are; he's just too foolish to realize that. He depends on us too much; we do his blackmail, we do his dirty work, we keep this company running smoothly for him. We guard him while he sleeps. He can try to get rid of us, but he will learn very quickly how bad of an idea that really is._

"_Get out when the time is right, take care of your daughter, and lay low. As far as the Turks are concerned, you'll die on some obscure mission somewhere and no one will see your face again."_

Rude heard Tseng walk towards the door, and it was too late to disappear or act like he'd just arrived. He turned aside to let the senior Turk pass, straightening to attention and schooling his face into blankness as best he could. He wished he were wearing his sunglasses.

Tseng stopped short, staring at him. They stood that way, neither saying anything, until the elevator dinged and Price stepped around the corner. Tseng stared at Rude a moment longer, then glanced at his watch. "You're late, Price. Both of you inside, now."

* * *

The Turks had stayed on the sidelines for weeks, patrolling in the Slums more than normal but otherwise staying firmly out of the Reaper's affairs. Now, however, they finally had an informant on the inside of the organization. Tseng, Rude, and Price were to meet the man near a no-name convenience store in the middle of Sector 5, an area of the Slums that was generally considered a neutral zone by most of the gangs and criminal organizations. He would supposedly be able to give them a concrete "yes" or "no" as to whether Tanner was stepping down, as well as an anticipated time for the event. Verdot expected to be able to use the man in the future, and it was Tseng's job during the meeting to ensure that he would remain loyal.

Tseng remained in Verdot's office after the briefing was over, sending Rude and Price ahead to wait in the lobby. It was ostensibly to cover last-minute instructions, but Rude suspected that it was really so that Tseng could inform Verdot that he'd overheard their conversation. He was quiet when he and Price stepped into the elevator, hoping that his mistake didn't cost him his job and, consequently, his life; he respected Verdot and Tseng a great deal, and although he didn't know what the situation was with Verdot's daughter – he hadn't even known that the man _had_ a family outside of the Turks – he certainly wasn't going to complain that one of his most respected mentors was being allowed to leave the department alive. He just hoped that he lived long enough to earn the same kind of respect and trust himself one day.

Price glanced at him after the elevator started moving. "So, Tseng was seriously giving you the evil eye when I walked up."

Rude remained silent for a moment, considering his options. Price was his boyfriend and his partner, but Tseng and Verdot were his superiors and, realistically speaking, his life. He owed a lot to both of them, and he wasn't supposed to hear that conversation anyway. He trusted them to think before acting and to take care of him more than he trusted Price to keep quiet about it, and it wasn't any of the blond Turk's business anyway. "Yeah, he was pissed off that you didn't show up early. You _know_ that if you're not ten minutes early you're late."

Price laughed. "Sorry. Guess you'll have to do a better job at babysitting me from now on." Rude smirked, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

If Tseng was planning on ending Rude's life in the near future, he gave no sign on the trip below the Plate. The journey was uneventful and mostly quiet for the three Turks; every now and then Rude or Price would ask a question, trying to get as much benefit out of Tseng's presence as possible since one-on-one mentoring with the senior Turks was rare now that all of the Turks were so busy. They fell silent once they reached the crowded streets of Sector 5, and none of them spoke once they reached the store. Now all they had to do was wait.

Laughter rang out down the street and they all glanced over, curious about the commotion. A bright flash of red hair was the first thing that caught their eyes; then they noticed the boy it belonged to. The hair crowned a pale face with laughing blue eyes and a sparkling grin, probably the brightest flash of color and personality in lower Midgar. He was only one of over a dozen children, but he easily stood out from the rest, quickly organizing the motley group of kids into two distinct "gangs." In a scene reminiscent of every gang movie ever created, the two groups faced off against each other, strung out along a wide swath of no-man's land. They insulted each other for a few minutes, traded some rude gestures that their parents would probably have been shocked to see, and then it began. One of the kids threw a clump of dirt; the two groups threw dirt and garbage back and forth for a few moments, but the situation quickly degenerated into a shrieking mob, each child intent on winning in an every-man-for-himself struggle.

The redhead who had caught the Turks' eye, however, didn't leap into the fray like everyone else. He watched for a minute, then ran through and grabbed two of the other children, pulling them out of the fight. The Turks watched, amused, as the trio armed themselves with trash from a nearby garbage can. The other kids never even saw it coming; a veritable barrage of sludge rained down upon them, and the skirmish ended quickly. The redhead smirked, strutted out in front of them, and crossed his arms. "I'll accept your unconditional surrender now."

Rude had trouble keeping himself from laughing at that, and beside him Price was having similar troubles. Even Tseng was fighting down a smile; this kid was completely full of himself.

The other children weren't as amused; then again, their unofficial leader had an exploded diaper on top of his head, which was probably pretty demoralizing for just about anybody. "You _always_ win, Jimmy…" The Turks automatically filed the name away for later reference, the mental action as automatic for them as breathing. "…though I'm _pretty_ sure I was on your side originally." Tseng's lips twitched again at that; he _was_ on Jimmy's side originally.

The redhead – Jimmy – laughed. "Maybe next time." The crowd began to disperse, and Jimmy and his two friends were the last ones standing there. They talked for a few minutes before agreeing to meet up at a local playground the next day; then they went their separate ways. The Turks watched Jimmy until he rounded a corner and disappeared.

"He's a smart kid," Tseng observed. "Far more intelligent and organized than the average child in that age group. A bit _loud_, perhaps, and I think I'm half blind now from looking at that hair." Rude and Price smirked; then Rude caught sight of a slender blond leaning against a lamp post across the street, watching them with amber eyes. He adjusted his sunglasses and nodded in the man's direction. Tseng followed his gaze and sighed. "Finally. Let's get this over with." Tseng made a mental note to check back on the boy before he turned to focus on the matter at hand. Price followed immediately, immediately dismissing the boy from his thoughts.

Rude stood for a moment longer, looking back in the direction that Jimmy had disappeared in. Most of the residents of the Slums were dull, monotone. Any color or personality was bleached out of them by the time they could walk, beaten away continuously by the harsh living conditions. He was curious as to how someone so bright had managed to survive unscathed for so long. Frowning, he shrugged it off, turning to follow his companions.

As expected, the informant confirmed that the Reaper was preparing to hand over the reins to someone new. Tanner had no solid deadline for the handover, but the informant estimated that it would be approximately two years before the switch occurred. The information wasn't really much more than the Turks already knew, but the informant was relatively close to Tanner and would be able to gather more information as time went on; Tanner's own lack of organization made it particularly difficult to gather useful intelligence in a timely manner. Verdot immediately ordered the patrols to stand down. They weren't reduced to their previous level, but they were decreased to something a bit more sustainable; the Turks were going to have to keep a closer eye on the Slums for a while now.

* * *

Rude wasn't surprised when he was called to Verdot's office seven days later; he also wasn't surprised to see Tseng standing next to Verdot's desk. He was, however, surprised when neither of his superiors mentioned anything about the conversation a week prior. Instead, the topic of discussion was Jimmy, the redheaded boy from the Slums. Tseng questioned Rude for several minutes on his opinions of the boy's tactics, organizational skills, and intelligence, before Verdot slid a manila folder across the desk towards him. Rude was shocked into speechlessness by the photos inside. They were taken with a Standard Issue surveillance camera, and they were photos of Jimmy. The boy was almost unrecognizable from the child they had seen in Sector 5.

His eyes and hair, so bright the week before, were tired and dull. His pale face was now marked by a pair of hideous red gouges below his eyes. It appeared as though they had been infected, and the skin around them was bruised and inflamed. His eyes had a haunted look about them, and made him appear years older than he really was.

Rude's hands were clenched into fists by the time he finished looking at the photos. "Who did this?"

Verdot snorted quietly. "Who knows? A parent most likely, but we didn't have him tailed so we don't know where he went or where he came from. These were taken by Cissnei early last evening. He was headed into Sector 4; a team this morning reported seeing him practicing _pickpocketing_, of all things, with one of the local gangs. The gang in question has a decent reputation in the Wars, run by a guy who goes by 'Mel.' We don't have a lot of background info on any of the members, but that's pretty typical when dealing with these guys. Most of them are orphans or runaways who don't have anything better to go back to.

"The point is, you and every other Turk who's seen this kid thinks that he's abnormally intelligent, and that he has an impressive set of organizational skills for someone his age – however old that may actually be. Now he's adding to that skill set with the typical talents of your average street hoodlum. The team this morning reported that he picked up pickpocketing almost instantly; there's no reason to think that he won't pick up the rest of those skills with ease.

"We don't usually recruit from below the Plate, because people down there are typically unreliable, too concerned with their own survival to focus on anything else and generally unreliable. They also don't tend to live long enough to be a recruitable age. In this case, however, we have a fairly unique individual, and we want to keep an eye on him. I have a standing order for all units below the Plate to report on any contact with him, but I want a semi-permanent tail. Your team will keep be assigned to the case; we have plenty of people keeping an eye on the Reaper situation, and you have an eye for detail and a knack for reading people that will be invaluable to this assignment. Tseng will provide you with the details."

Rude recognized a dismissal when he heard one, and nodded. "The photos, sir?" Verdot waved a hand, indicating that he could take them with him. "Sirs." Rude turned and headed back to his shared office.

Price glanced up when he came in. "Everything okay?" Rude tossed the folder on Price's desk. "That kid from last week? Looks like someone fucked _him_ up." Price gave a short laugh before closing the folder and tossing it over to land opened on Rude's desk. Rude stared at him.

"That's a kid, Price. And somebody carved his face up."

Price shrugged, turning back to his paperwork. "He's just some fucking slum rat, Rude. They all get fucked up like that sooner or later."

Rude sat down slowly, stricken. He had never heard his boyfriend speak like this before, and he didn't know what to think. Price had dismissed the buy as easily as someone would dismiss a piece of trash blowing across the street. He looked quietly down at the folder on his desk, the photograph, a boy's ruined face, staring up at him. He had a feeling that that face would haunt him for years to come.

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A/N:

Update time! So, for those of you reading my other stories, you probably recall my last Author's Note from _Broken Wings_ mentioning SERE training. Man, did that suck. But it was also awesome at the same time. Go figure…

Anyway, enough about that :p I've decided that this is going to be a fairly short story – probably somewhere around 10 chapters (15 at the most I'd guess). It's going to mirror _The Reaper_ a lot, just from Rude's point of view, so if you've already read _Reaper_ (which I seriously hope you did before starting this one), then you already know a lot of what's going on during this story. If you _haven't_ already read _Reaper_, you might want to; it'll probably make this story much less confusing.

And, um… I have the outline for the next chapter of this ready to go (actually was supposed to be the second half of this chapter, but I decided to break it off here), so this will probably be the next story update too. Going to be visiting family for a week though, so probably not going to be a speedy update, sorry…

Also, I never played Before Crisis, so I don't know much about Verdot/Veld. As with most of the characters, he's simply another hapless victim of an AU story.

Moving on… I just went and read through all of my old reviews for _The Reaper_, and I love you guys so much! It was really neat looking through and seeing all of the encouragement that you guys gave me throughout the course of the story.

That said, **Reviews!**

**Infinityinmirrors – **Thanks for pointing that out :) Changed it forever ago when you first mentioned it, but as you can see, it's taken me forever to update and mention it -sigh- Aaanyway… you'll eventually find out about Reno's dive off of the building, but it'll be a while. It doesn't happen until late in that story anyway, and with how long my updates have been taking me… who knows :-/

**Purefoysgirl** – thanks! I can't tell you how excited I was to see an update to _Eromenos_ the other week XD and yeah, God, I can't wait to get the hell out of Army training :( but even if it doesn't actually get better in the "Real Army," at least I'll be able to fly then lol

**Reiya Wakayama - **hehe, Reno finally made his grand entrance. I have to go back and check to make sure I didn't mess up his name like I did in the Reaper though, lol. Hopefully I remembered to say Jimmy everywhere for now :p

**Firstclassangel – **thanks :) I can't say Vincent is my absolute favorite (Reno wins hands down there :p) but he certainly ranks highly up there. Eventually I'll have to reintroduce him so his character doesn't fall by the wayside on accident here, heh

Aaand… some replies for the last **Reaper** reviews too :)

**Bloody days of dust – **lol, I'm certainly not the best out there, but I got to this point through a lot of practice, some really hard-ass English/lit instructors in middle and high school, and a LOT of really terrible writing lol. It's all a learning curve, and I really hope I'm not finished with mine yet :) Thanks for the review!

**Riku-rocks** – thanks :) I like Rude's mom a lot, hopefully I'll be able to work her and the rest of the family into this story too

**Gaarasninjachick – **thanks :) I'll probably do another chapter of this next, but Broken Wings is probably up again after that ;)

**Thinmints** – thanks a ton for the review! Hopefully I can keep up the pattern here, although I think most of the humor is going to be done until Reno becomes a Trainee towards the end…

**Soilderangelzack () – **lol, thanks ;)

As usual, feel free to point out any mistakes that I've made.


	4. Chapter Three Everything That Matters

**Warnings:** A little bit of language, and Price is a _biiitch!_

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Chapter Three – Everything That Matters

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_Year 486_

That evening in the office marked the first in a series of issues that Rude began having with Price, which followed him through Solstice and into the next year. Price's derisive attitude towards Reno – so nicknamed by his new "family" – persisted, and it soon became obvious that he wasn't exactly a fan of the team's new mission to tail the boy.

It started with excuses to wander off during their missions: he would get hungry and offer to go grab food for both of them; he would suddenly have to make "emergency" trips to the bathroom… the excuses were varied and never-ending. Over time, he began coming up with excuses to avoid the missions all together; since it was a fairly simple stakeout mission, and there were Turks available for backup all over the Slums, there wasn't a lot of concern about leaving Rude alone on the job, and Price didn't seem to have any qualms about abandoning his partner in favor of "doctor's appointments," "important errands," or even simply doing paperwork back at the office. When this behavior persisted for several months, Rude finally confronted him about it; Price simply shrugged. "I didn't join the Turks to follow some dirty rat around the Slums; if they're going to waste my skills on that kind of bullshit, then I may as well just stay here and do paperwork instead," and with that, Price turned back to the form in front of him, effectively ignoring his partner. Rude clenched his fists, grit his teeth, and walked out.

Tseng sighed. "Unfortunately, we do need someone to keep up the paperwork. We're still operating on a high optempo, most of the teams haven't had time to submit anything beyond initial reports, and it's turning into a backlog. If you're fine with continuing to work on your own, I'll just set him to working on those reports. So long as we schedule you to be on-site when there are other teams working in the area, it shouldn't be an issue." Rude nodded; he'd been working on his own for the majority of the missions anyway, so it wouldn't be much different now. At least this way he wouldn't have to worry about Price walking around the Slums on his own.

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For quite some time, Rude's days were taken up by watching Reno perfect his skills as one of the Slums' numerous delinquents. The boy's first lesson, pickpocketing, was the first of many: he learned how to break into homes without leaving a trace; how to climb walls and maneuver the jungle gym maze of the Slums; how to fight and how to shoot; how to kill. He learned what information was important to which people, and what material was best used for blackmail; his brilliant mind and seemingly perfect memory lent him an attention to detail that put others to shame. By the time he turned thirteen, he had developed a full set of skills that would make even a senior Turk envious. Rude was astounded at how quickly he learned, and he was often chagrined to remember his own training and how much longer some of the same tasks had taken him to master.

As he observed the young teen, Rude also began to take note of the people around him. The other teens that comprised the gang were fairly average, so far as Slums inhabitants were concerned. Their leader, Mel, had a knack for drawing people together and a caring manner that was unusual to see, and the gray-haired Sonny had a sharp mind that would make him an excellent information runner someday – if he survived the Gang Wars long enough to move on – but beyond that they were mostly unremarkable, and Rude began to watch people in the background.

He began to notice several people who were almost always in the gang's vicinity, watching surreptitiously just as he was doing. They tended to be older, most likely in their early to mid-twenties, and Rude began to suspect that one of the city's larger criminal organizations was looking to recruit new members. It wasn't until he noticed one return 'customer' in particular, a man with hair and eyes so dark they were nearly black, that he began to realize that it was the Reaper who was recruiting.

* * *

"It's definitely _him_." Tseng sighed, staring down at the Rude's surveillance photos and pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're spread thin as it is, especially with Vincent's crew on extended assignment in Wutai, but I'll assign Cissnei and Elena to rotate shifts with you. I'll start working with you on shifts part time as well." He frowned, rearranging the photos into a neat stack. "Sit down."

Rude complied, curious. Tseng had never confronted him about overhearing the conversation with Verdot, and the older department head had been out of the office a great deal lately; ostensibly keeping a personal watch on Tanner. Rude suspected otherwise, since Tanner was spending most of _his_ time watching Reno, and Rude had never spotted Verdot anywhere in the vicinity. Tseng, as a result of Verdot's absence, had been taking over the majority of the work that the department head was usually responsible for. Rude didn't know if that was what Tseng wanted to talk to him about – he somewhat doubted it – but he _did_ know that for the overworked second-in-command to take extra time to speak with him meant that it was extremely important. He wasn't disappointed.

"I'm concerned that we might have a mole in our department." Rude was shocked. Who in their right mind would work as a double agent against the _Turks_? Tseng sat back in his chair, watching Rude carefully. "So far my concern is only based on some unsettling coincidences, but in this business, coincidence usually _isn't_. I have our informant trying to confirm, but for now, I need another set of eyes on the department. I know you have a full schedule already with keeping an eye on Reno, but this is a delicate situation, and I already know from past experience that you can be trusted with it."

Rude was stunned. He had never told Price about Tseng and Verdot's conversation, but he hadn't realized that Tseng knew that. The level of trust that the quiet second-in-command was placing in him was immense, and Rude didn't know whether he should be honored by it or extremely concerned.

Tseng noted Rude's reactions carefully, his ability to read the man's minute facial expressions a skill honed through years of experience. What he saw pleased him; he now knew for certain that Rude had never spoken of the conversation with anyone, not even his partner and lover. It was difficult to find someone even amongst the Turks with that level of commitment and discretion, and he decided to continue with the rest of his news.

"One more thing. Since you've spotted Tanner watching Reno so often, it should come as no surprise that he's planning on sending the boy an Invite. This in itself is not unusual – it's not often that people from outside the Lich are invited, but it _does_ happen from time to time – but it's not normal for the Reaper to show so personal an interest in someone unless that person is a favorite to succeed him. We already know from your reports that Reno is a highly skilled individual, and that he stands a good chance of coming out on top when the Bloodletting begins; this means that our window of opportunity to recruit him is closing quickly. I've discussed this with Verdot, and we've decided to let it be.

Reno is still a bit young to assimilate into the normal ranks of the department, and being put into such a leadership position will give him the time to grow and gain some much needed maturity before we attempt to recruit him. There will be other "logistical" issues to deal with, since this could mean having two Reapers step down in a very short period of time, but with how badly Tanner has mismanaged the organization anyway, there's not much more that can be done to destabilize it. With any luck, Reno will be as gifted in administrative work as in field work, and he'll manage to put the Lich back on track to stability before we make our move."

Rude nodded. It made sense to wait to recruit the boy; the Lich was an importance part of keeping the society below the Plate from imploding into anarchy, and Tanner's poor decisions were leading to a dangerous situation for the entire city. If Reno could learn some responsibility while at the same time helping to bring the situation below the Plate back under control, then there was no reason to pull him out of the Slums now. "You want me to keep this quiet, I assume?"

Tseng nodded sharply. "If there _is_ a mole in our department, then they'll find out on their own. I'm not asking you to devote every waking second to scrutinizing your counterparts, but keep a sharp eye and ear out. You've been around long enough now to have gotten used to everyone's personalities and idiosyncrasies; now I just need you to keep an eye out and see if anyone is behaving abnormally. Listen closely to any rumors surrounding the current optempo, and anything involving Reno or the Reaper specifically. Note who's spreading the rumors, and who's listening to them, and report back to me. You don't need to make a scheduled report, just keep me informed if you think you've found anything."

Rude nodded again. Learning to pick out important information from surrounding conversations was a skill that all Trainees were supposed to learn; while Rude wasn't the best at it, his normally quiet and relaxed demeanor made it easy for people to forget he was there, so he was fairly well-suited to eavesdropping. Eying his subordinate one last time to ensure that he knew what was expected of him, Tseng gave a curt nod of dismissal, turning back to the seemingly never-ending stack of paperwork on his desk.

* * *

With his time consumed by watching Reno and keeping a close eye on his peers, Rude found it easy to push Tseng and Verdot's conversation to the back of his mind. It was with quite some surprise, therefore, that he returned to the ShinRa building one day to find the department in disarray, the other members of the Turks in varying states of shock and mourning. Verdot had been on a solo mission somewhere in the Slums, and it had gone terribly wrong. The Turk Commander wasn't coming back.

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A/N:

This isn't really where I wanted to end this chapter (as you can probably tell by the very abrupt ending), but it took me so long just to type four paragraphs that I figured I'd better post what I've got, lest I leave you guys with an even longer hiatus. The good news is, I have a detailed outline for what I want to happen next. It will probably be another very short chapter (since this is only about half of what I'd wanted to write), but it'll wrap up a couple of loose ends that I have flapping right now, and push the story ahead into the time period where Reno takes over as the Reaper.

On a completely separate topic, I started reading some FFVIII Squall/Seifer fics this week, and it makes me wish I was more connected to that universe; I'd love to write some S/S fics :p If any of you are interested in that sort of thing, _Defining Love_ by DB2020 is a really great story that I've found :)

**Reviews!**

**Infinityinmirrors – **it should continue progressing at a fairly quick pace, now that I've synced up the timeline with _The Reaper_. Shouldn't be -too- long until they get their first face-to-face, and we can see the "alcohol theft" from Rude's POV, lol.

**ThinMints** – I'm glad you're enjoying it so far :) I was originally intending for it to be more of a stand-alone piece, but I think I'm happy with how it's been adding back-story for _The Reaper_ too.

**KirasTastefulTragedy** – thanks for the review :)

**Also, **thanks to everyone who is still reviewing from _The Reaper!_ I'm happy to see new people still finding and enjoying the story, and I hope you guys like the rest of the arc just as much :)

Oh! **I need your guys' help!** I almost forgot :( I'm considering making a huge change to Reno's background from _The Reaper._ It won't affect the outcome of that story or this one, and it won't actually appear until a little later in _Fallen_, but it's a pretty significant twist I think, and I'm worried that it might be a little too much to change. So, I was wondering if there's someone out there who wouldn't mind getting a possible spoiler, and hearing out my thoughts on what I want to change. I actually wouldn't mind a Beta-ish person, actually, both to point out errors and to listen to me ramble about plot ideas and help kick my ass into gear when I take a ridiculously long time to update. If anyone's interested, please PM me!


	5. Chapter Three P2 Dirty Little Secret

**Warnings:** none, except Price still sucks

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Chapter Three Part Two – Dirty Little Secret

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Year 486

…_Verdot had been on a solo mission somewhere in the Slums, and it had gone terribly wrong. The Turk Commander wasn't coming back._

Rude was surprised at how many people were in attendance at the funeral. His typically solo missions in the Slums made it easy to forget how many people were actually members of the Department of Administrative Research, and even the Trainees were present, making the number of dark-suited individuals at the service a fairly large number. Many of the Soldiers had also shown up, standing somberly in their dress uniforms. It was rare that Turks were afforded funerals, since their bodies were hardly ever able to be recovered, but usually their services were only attended by the Department Head and small gatherings of close friends. This case, however, was different.

Verdot, despite his stern demeanor, had been well-liked and respected by his subordinates, and none of them wished to miss his memorial. Additionally, since he had been the Head of the Department, the funeral would serve as an informal change of command; Tseng stood by the casket at the wake, shaking hands with each Turk and Trainee as they filed by to pay their respects. The official story was that Verdot's vehicle had been struck by a RPG, so no one questioned why it was the casket was closed. Rude, of course, knew better, and he was initially glad that everyone was used to seeing him in sunglasses now; they wouldn't be able to tell that he wasn't grieving like everyone else. He watched Tseng as he slowly moved forward in line, and it wasn't until he realized that the new Head Turk had been crying that he realized that, dead or not, Verdot was truly gone. One of his first and most respected mentors would no longer be there to talk to and to learn from; now he was glad for the sunglasses because they his the tears that were building in his eyes.

Rude removed his sunglasses when he finally reached Tseng, extending a hand to shake the somber Turk's hand. Tseng gazed steadily back at him, holding his hand a moment longer than necessary and giving it a brief squeeze before letting go. Rude nodded slightly; Verdot was, as he'd assumed, alive and well somewhere. It was only a small comfort, and he placed his sunglasses firmly back on his face before letting anyone else see the heartache there.

* * *

Life returned to normal after the funeral; Tseng assumed the mantle of command, which was more of a formality than anything, since he'd already taken over all of Verdot's duties weeks prior. Vincent, as expected, was named Second-in-Command; however, since the gunman was still on extended assignment in Wutaii, Rude quickly found himself splitting many of the SiC duties with Cissnei and Elena. He was surprised to be given so much responsibility when he was still a very junior Turk, but he supposed it made sense in a way; Tseng had already proven that he trusted Rude with matters that no one else (except maybe Vincent) was privy to. This new level of responsibility meant that he heard instantly when their informant reported to Tseng again.

The first bit of information to be passed along was that Tanner was having troubles with his boyfriend, a man named Sim. Tseng didn't recognize the name, and Rude was unable to come up with a face or any useful information to match it, so Tseng filed it away as unimportant for the time being. It might prove useful later on as leverage of some kind, but there wasn't anything the Turks could really do with it for the moment.

The more disturbing piece of information was that Tanner was beginning to eye the Turks as a serious threat. The informant wasn't able to discover why, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that Tanner had someone on the inside passing him information about ShinRa: the informant had found documents detailing executive schedules, troop strengths, and budgeting information. The budget info was initially passed over as a non-concern, but Rude was quick to point out that budgets could easily lead to payroll estimates. Information about the Turks was highly classified within the company and very few people had access to their payroll, but the Department of Administrative Research was listed on the monthly budget reports just like every other department in the company. The average citizen might not know to equate the Department with the Turks, but Tanner certainly did. It wouldn't take a genius to compare Soldier budgets to Turk budgets, and to then use that as a basis for using known troop strengths to estimate the number of active Turks.

The positive side was that Tanner didn't appear to have any plans for acting against the Turks yet, but Tseng was all too aware of how quickly things like that could change. He immediately raised the alert level for all Turks working below the Plate, telling them only that the Bloodletting was estimated to be drawing near, and he didn't want anyone caught unawares in any infighting in the organization. With all of the Turks being more cautious, they were less likely to set the volatile Reaper off on some sort of rampaging bloodbath.

* * *

That summer passed in a slow monotony for Rude. By mid-summer, the various criminal organizations and gangs in the Slums had started catching on to the fact that the Reaper was planning on stepping down soon, and the Turks found themselves with their hands full trying to contain the rising criminal activity and gang violence that was slowly building below the Plate. With the extra workload, Rude found himself spending less and less time at home and with Price, and it was well into Autumn before he realized that something was wrong.

It started with the late hours. Rude came home fairly late every night, but there were many nights when he would return home to discover that his boyfriend wasn't there yet. At first he assumed that Price was just staying late at the office slogging his way through paperwork, but when he discovered that several newly-graduated Turks were sharing the workload on the backed-up paperwork, Rude began to suspect that something else was going on. He had never dated seriously in high school, so Rude didn't have any personal experience with bad relationships, but he heard enough sob storied in the cafeteria – both in high school and here at ShinRa – that he immediately started to worry if Price was seeing someone else.

When he returned home one evening to a brand new TV and sound system, he began to wonder if something _else_ was going on. Price made the same amount of money that he did, and it wasn't enough to buy that kind of quality electronics. He stood in the livingroom for several long minutes, staring blankly at the new entertainment system. There was nothing in the Turk contract prohibiting outside jobs; many of the Turks had little side jobs of one kind or another, usually something simple like selling small crafts that they made as hobbies. Jobs of that sort, however, weren't enough to pull in this sort of gil. Rude sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. _'Maybe he's just been saving up for a while. A long while. Without telling me. And he surprised me with it without bothering to be here for the surprise.' _He didn't have to review his thoughts to know how improbable that scenario was. Unfortunately, a new entertainment system wasn't something worth bringing to Tseng… especially when Rude was the person in the best position to keep a closer eye on Price anyway. He shook his head, aggravated, and resolved to ask Price about it as soon as the blonde returned home.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, Price didn't show up that night.

* * *

Fortunately – or unfortunately – the opportunity to ask him presented itself at lunch the next day. In a rare occurrence, both Turks were able to take lunch at the same time. Rude was out of the field for the day while Cissnei kept an eye on things, and Price was, as usual, in the office doing paperwork, so the two decided to take an extended lunch together and visit a nearby café that they were both fond of. It was a pleasant day, sunny and cool, so they elected to sit outside, something that Rude quickly found himself grateful for. He waited until they'd both ordered and gotten their drinks before asking about the TV, making sure that there wouldn't be any interruptions for a while.

"So, I couldn't help but notice that our old TV and speakers have disappeared…" Price laughed, taking a sip of his water and leaning back in his chair, and Rude found himself briefly distracted by the sight. It was easy to forget how open and cheerful Price had been when they first met, and the sight of Price's old smile was bittersweet when Rude considered how far apart they'd grown, and how suspicious he now was of his partner.

"Yeah, I figured you'd ask about that. I've been saving up for a while, but I wasn't anywhere near having enough for the new set yet. My dad called me out of the blue the other day though, to ask what I wanted for my birthday. I mentioned the TV, but I didn't actually expect him to say _yes_. Weird, huh?"

Rude nodded slightly, confused. It _was_ weird. Price didn't talk with his parents very often, unlike Rude, who spoke to his mother almost every night on the phone. Price's father worked for the company as a banking executive, so he certainly had the money to buy his son whatever he wanted, but it wasn't the sort of thing he ever really did. Rude shrugged though, and let it go. It was a plausible enough explanation anyway, and maybe Price's father just wanted to establish a better relationship with his son; people did that sometimes as they got older, he guessed.

Their conversation inevitably turned to work after that, and they chatted comfortably for a while, while they ate their meals. Rude relaxed, deciding that he must have been mistaken about Price's odd behavior, and so he was caught completely off guard when Price began talking about Reno and the Reaper.

"…I mean, you still keep an eye on the kid, right? He's still just your average, filthy brat, why the hell would the Reaper ever show a personal interest in _him?_ There are plenty of other little rats running around down there just like him." Rude tensed imperceptibly, glad that they were sitting in the sun and that he was wearing his sunglasses. Price still harbored a dislike and prejudice against Reno that Rude found unreasonable and frustrating, but what really shook him was Price's reference to Tanner's interest in the boy. No one was supposed to know about that except himself, Tseng, Cissnei, and Elena. It wasn't common knowledge that Tanner was watching him, and Price hadn't been involved in any missions below the Plate that would have clued him in.

Stricken, Rude let Price keep talking, hiding behind his usual silence to pretend that he hadn't caught the slip. It was soon time to head back to work, and they rode back to the ShinRa building in silence. Rude focused on regulating his breathing to hide his tension, keeping his hands relaxed on the steering wheel, and Price rode along beside him relaxed and unconcerned, oblivious to the anxiety hidden in his boyfriend's posture.

The drive was quick, and Price stretched lazily when he got out. "You headed back up to the office?" Rude nodded quietly. "I've got to head over to the Tech Lab for a little bit; I'll be up in a while."

Rude nodded again, watching him as he left before turning and heading in to the elevator. The ride up to the Turk floor felt like the longest ride of his life. Of all the people in the company, he hadn't expected Price to be the one to turn up as the mole, but there wasn't any other explanation for it. None of the Turks who were 'in the loop,' so to speak, would ever dare talk about Reno's situation to anyone else, not even another Turk. Rude supposed that Tseng could have told Price, but it didn't make sense that the Head Turk would have done so, especially without telling the people on Reno's case. Rude's thoughts ran in panicked circles, and he felt ill by the time the elevator stopped. His feet carried him to Tseng's office without conscious thought, and he froze for a long moment, staring at the door.

He closed his eyes, wishing he didn't have to do this, and then he took a deep, steadying breath, and knocked.

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A/N:

I dislike Price a little more every time I write something about him.

I have a general outline for the next part, just need to organize my thoughts and make a few decisions before typing it up.

**Infinityinmirrors – **First off, thanks for the offer :) I'll be hitting you up with an email soon ;) I think Tseng is more stressed and overworked than anything; Vincent needs to come back from his extended assignment and help out already :p


	6. Interlude

**Warnings: **Rude moping a lot…

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_Interlude One – Back on the Horse_

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_Year 486_

It was naïve, really, to think that he could hide his consternation from his boyfriend, no matter how estranged they'd become lately. Of course Price would have noticed his sudden silence at lunch; of course he'd recognized the breathing patterns that _every_ Turk was taught when they needed to regulate their breathing. Of course he had lied when he said that he was going to the Tech Lab. By the time that Rude was finished reporting to Tseng, Price was long gone.

Rude spent the next few weeks feeling like he was looking at the world through a fog. He had always been a quiet individual, bordering on the shy side, and Price was one of the few people in his life who he'd truly opened up to. The blonde's betrayal was like a blast of cold water, full of painful, stabbing sensations that were quickly followed by numbness and disbelief. Rude was entirely unsurprised when he was put on light duty for a while; he was too shocked to retain the situational awareness and reaction times that he needed for anything else. He vaguely wondered, more than a few times, why Tseng didn't simply get rid of him; clearly, he was some kind of liability – look how easily he had been duped, after all. Those thoughts skittered across the surface of his hazy subconscious before sinking back into oblivion just like everything else.

Every so often, Rude would overhear snippets of conversation about the search for the renegade Turk. The hunters were coming up empty-handed; Price, having been trained by the very people who were now searching for him, knew exactly what to do to avoid detection, and he was nowhere to be found. During the brief moments when thinking about Price wasn't painful enough to make him recoil back into his stupor, Rude decided that it wasn't too surprising that Price couldn't be found. He'd graduated towards the top of the class, after all, and an organization like the Lich probably had all of the people and equipment necessary to give someone a new face and identity. Price would have to be a fool not to make use of those resources.

* * *

A delicate surgery, performed in a run-down factory that brought to mind serious questions about sanitation, was enough to change pale blue eyes to a honey-colored brown. Skin crèmes did the trick of turning sun-bronzed skin into a pale color more suited to the Slums, and a simple haircut was enough to change his hairstyle. A few reconstructive surgeries later, and the man once known as Price was physically unrecognizable to anyone who had known him. The hardest part was changing his voice but, in the end, he had the soft drawl perfected. Now, he and Tanner just had to lay the groundwork for what was to come.

* * *

It was the blond hair that first caught Rude's attention. They had been trying to put a face to Sim's name for some time now, and surveillance efforts had finally pulled through. The honey-colored eyes of Tanner's former lover stared out of the photo; the hair was really the only part of him that reminded Rude at all of Price. Hair down in the Slums tended to be a mousy sort of brown, but he supposed that if someone with Reno's hair color was running around, then a true blonde wasn't that much of a surprise after all. The photograph was, however, enough to finally snap him out of the morose fog that had enveloped his world since Price's betrayal. Price may have gone underground, but Tanner was still out there, still making plans, still following Reno around. It was time to finally get back to work.

* * *

I'm sorry for such a long wait, and for such a damned short chapter. Writer's block struck, then life got busy, then I moved from the States to Germany, and so writing kind of fell by the wayside. I've been wanting to finally finish this chapter for a long time, but it was really hard to pick it up again after so long. We're right before Chapter 3 of The Reaper though ("The Meet"), so a lot of this is going to start mirroring that story from a different point of view – hopefully that will make it a bit easier to work through.

In a completely unrelated aside, I've realized that the Army has ruined a lot of Hollywood for me. Seriously.

**Reviews!**

Normally I try to reply to these individually, but given my long absence… there have been a lot of them. So, a mass "thank you!" will have to suffice. For those who are wondering, "OPTEMPO" is military jargon for Operational Tempo – basically, they've got all kinds of operations going on at a crazy pace right now.

Also, for those of you who have been going "WTF!" about The Reaper's Epilogue… I guess I should clarify that it occurs some time after Reno and Rude's vacation. More specifically, that event occurs towards the middle-end of Fallen. I probably should have indicated a time lapse at the start of the chapter -blush-


	7. Chapter Five Welcome to the Jungle

**Warnings:** Tanner talks a lot. Again.

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_Chapter Five – Welcome to the Jungle_

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_Year 487_

The Meet location was an empty, dusty square, devoid of any life and only accessible by a few narrow alleys. There should have been people there – a street gang full of young toughs, strutting around like they owned the place. Instead, there was no one. Rude frowned, looking over at where Tseng was waiting. Tseng sighed, shaking his head; the other gang should have been there by now. The sound of laughter and loud, echoing footsteps reached them, and the two Turks drew further back into the shadows.

It didn't take the youths in the street long to realize that something was seriously wrong. A few moments after entering the square, they were pelting back the way they'd come. Rude and Tseng dove towards the back of the building they were lurking in, barely hearing Reno shout his bomb warning in time. The explosion shattered the windows and blasted rubble into the air.

The fight below was swift and brutal. Reno's gang, still reeling from the explosion, fought like madmen, blood dripping from ears and noses after the concussion. Their opponents, overconfident fools that they were, didn't realize at first what was going on – backed into a fight or flight situation with no real option to flee, Reno's gang snarled and snapped with animalistic fury as they fought, and they didn't stop raging until there was nothing left except for blood, silence, and dust drifting slowly through the air.

Tseng and Rude, still safely ensconced in the shadows of their building, climbed silently to their feet, shocked in spite of themselves at the brutality of the clash that they'd just witnessed. It was easy to forget sometimes how cruel and dangerous children could be. Reno left them with no doubts on the matter; Rude's stomach gave a slow roll when he saw Reno begin to start cutting faces off of the bodies. Cruel and dangerous… perhaps "children" wasn't the right word for the battered and bloody creatures down below.

Neither Turk moved when the small gang finally began to disperse; they were there to discover what Tanner's intentions concerning Reno were, and Tseng knew that the man was somewhere there, watching. Rude looked briefly back the way Reno had disappeared; he could have sworn that someone was still standing there. Tseng shifted beside him and Rude finally turned, eyes immediately zeroing in on the Reaper. Tseng and Tanner stared at each other across the now-empty street. Tseng broke eye contact first, his posture contemptuously dismissive as he gestured for Rude to follow. Rude glanced back at the building he'd been staring into earlier on his way out, but no one was there.

* * *

Rude was waiting the next morning when Reno made his way through the silent streets of Sector 4. His instructions were simple: "Observe from the shadows and take careful notes on everything that you see. Don't assist Reno unless he's overwhelmed; in that case, get him out of there and bring him up to be quarantined." Neither Turk expected Reno to have a lot of trouble during the Bloodletting, but Tseng had Cissnei on standby in Sector 3, just in case. Once Rude figured out where Reno was heading he stopped trailing the redhead, choosing instead to take his time sneaking into the area. The last thing he wanted was for one of Tanner's cronies to spot him watching the proceedings.

By the time Rude made it into position, Reno had somehow lost his jacket… and he had a gorgeous young blonde hanging all over him. Rude's eyes narrowed, and he quietly pulled out his cellphone.

* * *

Tseng stood at his window, looking quietly out at the lights if Midgar. He had never particularly liked working in the ShinRa building; the tower with its window-walls and glass elevators was a security nightmare, and there was something about the way it flaunted the company's wealth that had always bothered him. On rare nights like this, however, the smog that covered the city in a perpetual shroud was thinner than usual, and the view from his office made working in the monstrosity worth it.

He was bothered, as he often was these days, by the mystery that still surrounded Tanner's actions. Assuming that Tanner wanted to hand over his organization because it wasn't making enough money was too… convenient. The man was a megalomaniac; he shouldn't be willing to give up his power so readily without a plan in place to strengthen his position afterwards. Then there was the situation with Price… Why cultivate such a perfect informant within the company, if Tanner was just going to step down anyway? None of it made sense.

His cellphone chimed on the desk behind him and Tseng sighed, turning away from the window. Perhaps tonight's activities in the Slums would shed some light on the situation; he just hoped that Reno made it through the whole mess. It would be unfortunate to lose such a promising Turk candidate.

* * *

Tanner made his grand entrance while Rude waited on Tseng's response, and the dark-skinned Turk was baffled when he spotted the little girl wearing Reno's jacket. The look of annoyance on Reno's face didn't provide any enlightenment, but it did make a corner of Rude's mouth quirk into a smile; he had to stifle a chuckle when Reno missed the summons to the center of the square. After a bout of yawn-inducing talk on Tanner's part, the square finally emptied, and Rude focused on the group of contestants down below.

Three of Reno's competitors were talking quietly together, sneaking quick, angry looks at the redhead, and Rude suspected that they would give Reno the most trouble. The others didn't seem to be actively planning anything, and Rude wondered briefly what Tanner's criteria were for sending out invites; the majority of the young men milling about below didn't seem like they'd be much of a competition.

The instant the city clocks struck 1830, Reno snapped into action. One of his three primary opponents was down with a shot to the head before anyone realized what was happening, and Reno bolted down an alley and out of sight before the others could react. Rude was stunned by the teen's speed; even _he_ hadn't expected Reno to act so quickly. His cell vibrated in his pocket and he frowned, pulling it out. There was no way he would be able to keep track of Reno during the next three days.

* * *

Tseng stared at the text message from Rude, his mind working rapidly.

'_T's ex is hanging all over R down here. Weird that T would invite him to be here? We're missing something.'_ Rude was right – Tanner and Sim had broken up well before Tanner decided on the location for the start of the Bloodletting. There was absolutely no reason why he would invite his ex to attend; there was no reason he would _allow_ Sim to attend… unless he _wanted_ Sim there. But if Reno was Tanner's favorite to win, and Tanner's ex was all of a sudden hanging on Reno… the most likely candidate to become the next Reaper… Tseng cursed. Why _would_ someone like Tanner give up his position of power in the organization? The answer was simple: it was easier to manipulate people from behind the scenes and reap the benefits of their hard work than it was to actually be in charge. Reno wouldn't even know that Sim and Tanner were connected; Tseng doubted that anyone in the Lich would dare say anything to him about it, and to _them_ it would just look like Sim was jumping from one leader to the next. The city's clocks chimed 1830, and Tseng's heart sank. They were far too late to do anything about it now; they would be forced to continue watching and waiting, and hope that this was the extent of Tanner's machinations. He sat at his desk, typing a short response to Rude.

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'_Plot on T's part. Too late to stop it. Continue with previous orders, report when complete.'_ _– Tuesday, 18:31_

'_R out of sight already, four down.' – Tuesday, 18:34_

'_Hold position unless necessary for resupply. Keep me informed.' – Tuesday, 18:35_

'_Wilco' – Tuesday, 18:37_

'_R back in sight, holing up in adjacent building.' – Tuesday, 21:17_

'_Continue to observe.' – Tuesday, 21:25_

'_No changes to report.' – Wednesday, 06:00_

'_No changes to report.' – Wednesday, 18:00_

'_No changes to report.' – Thursday, 06:00_

'_No changes to report.' – Thursday, 18:00_

'_R stringing some sort of lines between buildings. Objective unknown.' – Friday, 05:32_

'_Two targets have reentered the area.' – Friday, 16:04_

'_Targets eliminated. R returned to hole-up site.' – Friday, 16:28_

'_Remaining targets have reentered the area. No activity from R.' – Friday, 18:23_

'_End game. R successful. T giving a speech. Again.' – Friday, 18:32_

* * *

**A/N:**

First, I'm really sorry about the gap between updates again. I've been having a lot of trouble drumming up the motivation to work on this… partly because work is busy, partly because I have this alternate version of _The Reaper _stuck in my head, and it's hard writing something that parallels the original version right now. I can't just change things to match my "updated" version, because it's a lot more violent, Reno's a lot more of a killer, and the Lich doesn't exist in that story – the Reaper exists as a totally different concept. Maybe someday I'll put that story on paper/computer… but I'd feel kind of bad starting yet _another_ story when I have so many that I'm still working on :-/ I'll probably do it anyway, because I kind of like my other version better, but eh. I'll try to work on this one a little more often at least.

Second, sorry about (yet another) short chapter. I think I'm having so much trouble with this because I have to continually cross-reference back to _The Reaper_ to make sure the stories line up properly, instead of just _writing_. How do real authors do it? Lol.

Aaanyway. Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed my Final Fantasy stories since my last update. I appreciate your guys' continued support, and the positive reviews really mean a lot to me, even if I don't always get to respond or update quickly after receiving them. You guys keep me going :)


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